Prongs and Prejudice
by scrummybunny
Summary: I think karma has come to visit me. And instead of giving me riches and perhaps a pony, it has decided to beat me to a bloody pulp."
1. Karma

A/N: Was struck with brilliant inspiration to write story centered around Dictionary.com's word of the day. Today's word? Tirade.

I was also jonesing for a Lily/James fic. This little ditty takes place 7th year. Oh-so-slightly based on Pride and Prejudice. Hurrah for Jane Austen!

Much love to Lady Narcissa for beta-ing!

* * *

Imagine this. A boy—gorgeous, smart, and popular. Prankster with a heart of gold. Slight bad boy that you could heal with your sweet, sweet loving. Sounds dreamy, doesn't it?

How about _not_.

"Lily, I need to ask you something," he shouts, running through the corridor to catch up with me.

"Please don't," I respond coolly.

"Oh, c'mon. You don't even know what I'm going to ask!" he whines. Of course I know what he's going to ask... the same thing he has been asking me for years.

"I might have a vague idea, considering you asked me a question five minutes ago." Hah. Go me.

"You don't know that it's the same one." Pfft. Yeah right.

"It is, Potter. Because that's the only question you _ever_ ask me."

"Is not."

"It is _too_."

"Not."

"Too!"

"Too."

"NOT! Oh...damn it Potter, just go away!" I huff. He is the most _irritating_ wart I've ever had the misfortune to come across.

"Not until you let me ask you my question," replies the insufferable boy. Hate.

"Okay, just bloody fire away. Then, you _have to go away_," I say slowly. Potter may have good marks, but he seems rather thick to me.

"Great! Now, Evans...go with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?" A lock of hair falls into his eyes, and by something I can't explain, I reach out and push it away.

Eww. I touched Jam—Potter, I touched Potter, _yuck_! Now he'll think I have fluffy bunny feelings for him, ready to say "James Potter, take me!" and swoon into his arms, rather like the couple on the cover of _Bewitched by Lust_. At least he has strong arms, from what I've observed.

Ugh. Bad thoughts, Lily, _bad thoughts_. Potter. You hate him. Remember when he keeps reminding you about that horrible incident involving spiked butterbeer? I don't recall much, except for a lampshade on my head. I think I might have danced on a table, singing 'It's Raining Wizards!' Oh God, I can't think about it right now.

Rather unexpectedly, all Potter does in the midst of this first physical contact is blink. A lot. He then peers at me through uncharacteristically timid eyelashes.

"T-thanks, Lily." Whoa. He may have dyed Snape's skin orange, discovered photos of McGonagall singing karaoke, and managed to break records of the most Hogwarts detentions, but he does _not_ stutter. His mouth upturns slightly, and I do not take that as a good sign. The shy, human side of Potter is gone: he is back to his normal, exasperating self. A slight sense of sadness envelops me at that thought.

"I take that as an overwhelming yes, then?"

_You foul, infuriating insect!_ I am being _nice_ to him for once, and of course, in typical 'I'm James Potter and I think I can get away with anything!' fashion, he decides to irk up the moment. I'm absolutely _sick_ of him. Argh!

"Listen, you ogre. I'm going to explain this as _nicely_ and _calmly_ as possible. I want you—"

"Ooh, I knew it!"

I growl at him. Seriously. Did not know I could growl. Does this mean I can roll my r's?

"You stupid _berk_, go away and _never_ speak to me. _Please_. Well, except at prefect meetings, where you will be polite and avoid all contact if possible. I hate you, James Potter, rot in hell!" I practically scream. I can feel the blood rushing to my face, but I don't care. Let him see me all splotchy. Maybe then, he'll realize how ugly I am and stop stalking me.

He narrows his eyes.

"You know what, Evans? I'm over you. That's right, _over you_, Miss Center-of-the-Universe. While you were in your cave, or wherever you lurk, I began dating a _very_ agreeable Hufflepuff—"

"Oh, come off it. You snogged girls at the same time as proclaiming your 'love' for me."

"Shut up, Lily. The point is: you've had your chance. Many. Too many, really. And I've wasted too much time on you. I'm completely over you and I'm _glad_. I thought we could go to Hogsmeade so we could get to know each other. Maybe even get along, if only for the sake of our Head Boy and Head Girl functions."

I feel an unfamiliar emotion of regret. _No._ I'm _delighted_ that he's stopped liking me.

Why do am I so miserable, then?

James looks at me, expecting me to speak. When I say nothing, he shakes his head. As he turns the corner, I think I see him wipe his face.

Oh, Merlin. What have I done?

Let's see: I've managed to break his heart, and all during that merciful process, develop a crush on him.

I need to get him back. Make him fall for me again. He just can't bury those feelings six feet under, can he? I'm pretty cruel to him, though. Again, the painful question of the moment—_what have I done?!_

A plan forms in my head. A brilliant plan, in my opinion. I'm Lily Evans, damn it! Smartest witch in my year. I'm going to win him back. Must make plans for Hogsmeade this weekend. Oh bugger. I haven't been to Hogsmeade since the butterbeer incident.

I think karma has come to visit me. And instead of giving me riches and perhaps a pony, it has decided to beat me to a bloody pulp. I get the feeling that day's events might be somehow life-altering. How right I will prove myself to be.


	2. Tolerable?

A/N: This is somewhat based on _Pride and Prejudice_…some elements are, but not everything. Just making that clear. And don't worry, an actual plot will surface soon!

* * *

Hey, Moony.

_Bonjour, Prongs. _

History of Magic is so. Bloody. Boring.

_Prongs, you're Head Boy. You're supposed to pay attention is class so you can keep that position, remember?_

Bah humbug. Why aren't you Head Boy?

Because he smells bad.

_Thanks, Wormtail. Well, the fact that I'm a snarling werewolf three nights out the month might have a bit to do with it._

Right.

**Illicit notes in History of Magic class? I am ashamed and appalled, Prongsie!**

Shut up, Padfoot.

Place nicely, guys.

**Shut up, Wormtail. **

_Oh honestly, I'll just write so this won't erupt into a bloody argument! So…did you ask Lily to Hogsmeade next weekend?_

Yeah. The wench took it all the wrong way though. Rejected me, then acted sad about it. I bet she laughed all the way to her stupid cronies. Not including you, Remus. Have I mentioned how happy I am that I'm over her?

_Right. How are things with that Hufflepuff, what's-her-face...Alyssa?_

Broke up with her yesterday. I'm going to Hogsmeade with another girl. One whom I rather like, actually. Priscilla Goldstein.

_She looks like a duck. Her lips do, I mean._

Moony, you should know this… all people have flaws. She's... nice, though. And she laughs at my jokes and thinks my hair looks cool when it's ruffled. Lily hates her, which is a nice change.

_You're just going out with her to annoy Lily._

Shut up, Moony.

_Oh, come on… aren't you still attracted to her, at least?_

She's… tolerable, but not desirable enough to tempt me anymore.

**Whoa. **

Harsh.

_I agree with those two. You were in love with her just last week—what happened?_

I moved on, Moony. And I'm glad that I did.

* * *

I found this parchment just the other day. They left it on their desk, and since I stayed after class to talk to Professor Binns, I couldn't resist taking a peek. I really am too curious for my own good.

And right now, I am on the brink of crying, because in James Potter's eyes, I am _tolerable_.

This is so bloody stupid. I'm acting like one of his girlfriends of the week! I shouldn't cry… I _won't_ cry. Remus is over there. I can talk to him, and I'll be fine. He's my friend. He will surely take my mind off this. I sit next to him on the couch and begin to talk.

"Remus," I sigh, "how is it that you are friends with that troll?"

He looks over to where James and Sirius are eating those Bertie Botts beans that makes you emit animal noises. James is a monkey (how fitting!), swinging his arms around and acting like a general buffoon. Sirius is a dog, which James (and Remus too, for some odd reason) finds incredibly amusing. Around them is an army of people, mostly girls, shrilly laughing and pointing at their antics.

A small part of me desires to be a member of the crowd.

"He's not all bad, Lily. He's just--hmm, how do I put this—complicated. Penchant for trouble, but he has his heart," Remus looks pointedly at me, "in the right place."

"Mmm," is all I say, as I chew on the end of my quill and think. Should I tell Remus about my infatuation? He would help, I'm sure; he cares deeply for me, I know. But he's also one of James's best friends. It would just be—in his words—too complicated.

"Knut for your thoughts?" he asks.

"I think I will go to Hogsmeade this weekend," I say thoughtfully.

Remus sputtered. "What? You haven't been since, well…"

"Yeah. I know. But I have—I have some business. That I need to attend. You don't mind if I go with you, do you?"

"No! Never! Of course, you will have to suffer through James, Sirius, and Peter."

I wipe an invisible tear from my face. "I think I'll survive."

He chuckles. I grab his hand and quietly question him.

"Remus, how is your, well… _aunt_?"

'Visiting his aunt' is code for the next full moon. I figured out that he was a werewolf back in fourth year. I haven't told a soul since. It was terribly sad: at the time, he expected me to stop being friends with him! How could I? There was nothing wrong with being slightly hairier for three days a month. After all, I'm not very pleasant for three days monthly either.

"I'm… erm, well, visiting her next week. I—she is feeling fine, for now," he says with a smile. "Thanks for asking."

I smile at him. Poor thing. I sometimes wonder what would happen if James and company found out. I think that they do know—they _must_ know, because they've been friends for seven years. If this is true, they must be supportive of him, then. I look at James, who is currently rolling on the floor, laughing hysterically.

Maybe there is reason to my madness.

* * *

I am waiting outside the Potions classroom with my fellow Gryffindors. Unfortunately, we have to take this course with Slytherins. There is one in particular who can't stand me: Severus Snape. Since that stupid incident in fifth year, when I _defended_ him, he has been absolutely horrible to me. To make matters worse, James and his friends try to act as knights in shining armor, which eggs him and themselves on. It's a vicious cycle.

"Mudblood…still taking NEWT-level classes? Pity."

I bristle. It is true; I am the only Muggle-born taking advanced classes. Not that the other Muggle-borns aren't capable; they are simply bullied beyond belief. I am the only one brave enough, really.

Honestly, he is just sour because I make better marks than him. I figure the best approach to annoying him the most is killing him with kindness.

"Why, Severus, do you need tutoring?"

Oops. My head doesn't quite connect to my mouth at times.

While I hear the distinct snickering of Sirius, James, and Peter (Remus's mouth is dangerously twitching), Snape starts to point his wand at me. My eyes widen—this isn't an everyday circumstance—when suddenly, James throws himself in front of me.

"Don't you _dare_ touch her!"

My heart flutters, and Snape's lip curls. It feels as if it grew wings and is aching desperately to burst out of my chest. And then I remember—wait a second, I am an independent woman! I don't need someone protecting me; I could have handled him myself!

I shove James aside, preparing to berate him, when I really think about it: what he did was really nice... foolish, but nice. Besides, I'm trying to befriend him, not push him away further. A rare event—I am trying to be civil to James Potter.

"James… thank you. I mean, I could have taken care of it myself, thank you very much, but what you did was very, erm, chivalrous. Thanks."

I just did something that went against all of my feminist morals. Oh well, the grin that he is giving me now is worth it. Almost.

"Touching, Mudblood. Just be careful with Potter. Don't know where he has… _been_, do we?"

James starts to walk over, when I place my hand on his chest and slightly push him back. I look up at his face.

"Don't, James. He's not worth it."

His mouth is in a straight line, but he nods, slowly. Our Potions professor has finally arrived.

"Now, now… move away, let me through to the door!"

Professor Buckles is a kindly old woman, like someone who would be an ideal grandmother. She has a major flaw, though—she procrastinates more than her own students.

As she pushes through the masses, she says, "Sorry, I haven't marked the parchments from last week yet. Expect it…well, how about by the end of the term?"

"What about the ones from two months ago?" someone yells.

She waves her hand dismissively. "No, no, you'll get those soon enough. Oh dear… where did I put my keys?"

As she fumbles through her briefcase, James speaks to me.

"I'll, erm, talk to you after class, okay?"

I nod, and we smile at each other. The door is finally open, but we don't go in it yet. Snape shoves past us, pushing me hard against a wall. I hear Pandora Parkinson whisper, "Isn't he with Priscilla Goldstein?" But it's odd—I find myself not caring about all that. Reason to my madness, indeed.


	3. Unlikely Friendships

After, oh say—a year, I'm finally updating this. Oh dear.

* * *

After a night of fervently studying Vanishing Spells, I nearly fall asleep at the breakfast table. My oatmeal looks like a canvas, and my spoon a paintbrush as I trace shapes in the porridge. First, a smiley face. A house. A--a heart? Oh, bloody hell, this is getting cliché. Nothing quite takes the charm out of unrequited love like cold porridge. 

Frank Longbottom asks me if I am all right. I mutter, "Yes, Frank, I am doing quite spiffingly. Thank you very much, old chap!" but it ends up sounding like, "Yefraspifthanks." He gives me a sceptical look, shrugs, and eats his eggs. I look down, deciding to go back upstairs—perhaps I still haven't quite perfected those charms.

As I slowly walk up, a voice hisses in my ear: "Given up, have we?"

I turn around slowly. Severus Snape is standing there, his arms crossed. I give him a tired look, which doesn't take much of an effort. "What are you doing, Severus?" I ask, rubbing my eyes.

"You're moping about the bloody school, Mudblood. It's even depressing for _me_," he sneers.

My eyes snap open. I have to hand it to Snape for getting me back to my old self. "Why are you bothering me?" I spit, "don't you have anything better to do?"

He scowls, of course, and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "Well…no, I was just bored." He looks at me with an almost hopeful look in his eyes. I look past him down the stairs, only to see James and Sirius having a swordfight with their spoons. A crowd of girls surround them, and one knows they're only doing it for attention. James stops, winks at a girl and ruffles his hair. Rage pours into me and I feel as if I hate him more than ever.

I look back at Snape. He's still looking at me, and realization hits…

"You're trying to be my friend, aren't you?"

He sputters, struggling for words. "What? I…no…pfft…_no_."

Which obviously means, "Yes, please."

"It's fine, you know," I say as I continue walking, "I'm not as narrow-minded about Slytherins as the rest of my fellow Gryffindors." I give him a sweet smile, knowing it will make him squirm. It does.

Suddenly, James and Sirius start to tango. James pushes Sirius away, who acts offended and swoops the girl he was winking at into his arms, twirls her around, and gives her a kiss. The hall fills with "Awww"'s.

"James Potter is such a prat," I can't help but mutter. Snape gives me an incredulous look.

"I thought you were his girlfriend," he says, wonder evident in his voice.

I lift my chin, pushing the memories of the past few days into the back of my mind. "I detest Potter just as much as you do."

He gives me a smile. "I have a feeling this is going to be a beautiful friendship."

"Isn't that line from a Muggle movie?"

Snape ignores me. "The way he ruffles his hair…_who_ does that?"

I roll my eyes. It's exhilarating to have somebody to talk to about how annoying James is. "James Potter does. After all, he's such a ladies' man." I ruffle my hair and lower my eyes in 'seduction.' "Hey baby, you wanna ride my broomstick?"

I glance at him, and he's emitting a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

* * *

"I saw you talking to Severus Snape today." 

I look at my friend, Artemis Pace. In my fifth year, I had many friends, most of them girls. During the past two, however, we've lost that connection. Artemis, though she can sometimes be a bit too dreamy, has truly stuck with me throughout the years. I am laying on my bed on my stomach, working on an assignment, and I look up.

Now, I am irritated by her. "What, were you in the crowd watching James Potter?" I ask with a harsh tone.

"Yes," she answers honestly, "and I saw you two. Together. You aren't—"

Sighing exasperatingly, I reply, "No, we aren't dating. We've simply…bonded, that's all. Am I not allowed to have friends?" My pitch rises, and I can feel myself becoming defensive.

Artemis shakes her head ardently. "No, no, I mean…it's just strange. I haven't seen Severus Snape be friendly with anybody who wasn't Lucius Malfoy or one of those Slytherins, let alone a Muggle-born Gryffindor." Her face grows concerned.

I brush it off. "People can change, can't they? People much better, much more mature than _Potter_." I say the word as if it's _Avada Kedavra_ itself.

She shrugs. "Okay. Whatever you prefer." She sits at the end of the bed, taking a magazine from her nightstand and flipping through it. "Who do you reckon will be _Witch Weekly_'s Hogwarts Graduate of the Year?"

"Probably James bloody Potter." I purse my lips.

"Yes, you're probably right. Though he might have competition from Sirius Black." She must not have noticed my sarcasm.

"You...don't fancy Sirius Black, do you?" I inquire, looking up.

Artemis raises her eyebrows. "Oh, heavens no! I mean, I quite like him, but..." she stops, and a dreamy smile comes across her face.

I sit up. "Who?" I demand.

She gives me a coy grin. "It's a secret. I'll tell you later." She closes the magazine and leaves the room. I stand up, starting to follow her, when I run into somebody else at the bottom of the stairs.

"Lily! How are you?" Sirius Black is babbling, and he gives me a bone-cracking hug. James looks over from where he's sitting. I awkwardly pat his back.

"Er…fine, thanks."

"What's going on with you and—"

I narrow my eyes. "This isn't about me and Snape, is it?"

He flashes me a smile. "Well, now that you've mentioned it…"

I sigh impatiently. "I'm sorry that I'm friends with someone you think is a git, okay? It's all fair really; you're friends with a person _I_ think is a git."

Looking at me for a moment, Sirius breaks out into a beam and wraps his arm around me, tugging me around the common room. "Oh, Lily, you've always been my favourite."

I furrow my brow. "Favourite what?"

"Ahh, just my favourite." He gives me a one-armed hug before joining James, who for some reason or another, looks simply furious.

I fear for his sanity.


End file.
